I make lists. To do lists. Partly because I can’t ever seem to remember everything that needs done and partly just to experience the satisfaction of crossing things off when I complete them.
Every week, I have twenty or more pressing things to do, and I put them on the list as I think of them – usually at night when I’m driving and have nothing better to do than think. The next day, I get done what I can, cross those items off the list and then go to work. And add more things to the list, quite often more than I crossed off. It’s a continuous cycle that has been ongoing for the last twenty plus years. On weekends, at the expense of sleep, I try to get everything caught up; cross everything off the list. Try, but it never works. I haven’t had an empty list (if there is such a thing) since - well, ever. The more I do, the more there is to be done.
I’ve been told my problem is I have too many aspirations, that I really should just relax, not make a list, and not try to do anything. My question is, what exactly would that accomplish? Nothing. I have only so many days until I die. I sincerely hope I have my list done before that happens. But, if the last twenty years are any indication, I probably won’t. And that presents quite a problem – how will I ever be able to rest in peace, knowing my list isn’t done?
Until recently, it seemed the only way around the dilemma was just not to die. I’m pretty sure that’s not a viable option. Obviously, I’m not going to live forever - although so far, it’s working quite well. But, back to my conundrum, I think I have found a solution. It’s simple really. If I can manage for my body to outlive my brain, I’ll never be able to think of anything to add to my list. No list – voilà, problem solved. After reading this blog, some will no doubt insist that my brain is already going so I should have nothing to worry about. I would love to argue the point but I don’t have time. The weekend is here and I have a long list of things to do.